


Beneath the Berlin Wall

by Beth_Penrose



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, Kinda, Nipple Clamps, Not Beta Read, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Self harm through sex, a little choking, as a treat, definitely all consensual thouugh, i mean there is a lot of talking and emotions and shit, im a lesbian writing straight sex, so take from that what you will, the masters not dead yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Penrose/pseuds/Beth_Penrose
Summary: After the Timeless Child the Doctor is still reeling and needs a way to manifest her pain. There's one person she can count on to do that for her.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Beneath the Berlin Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Heya, so I was in a dark place the other day where I really wanted to have the kind of sex where someone just beats the absolute shit out of you. Alas, we're all in quarantine. Which means you get this fic instead. BTW, the part at the end of 12x10 with the Judoon doesn't happen, in case that wasn't obvious

“Take me to him.” The TARDIS gave out a groan that was easily recognizable as protest. The Doctor ignored that, rushing around the console to pull levers and press buttons. Her long coat flared out behind her as she did so. Her hair was falling in her face, and she absentmindedly tucked it behind her ears. “Don’t give me that,” she argued. “Just do it. Another time, any time. Just let me see him again. Just once more.” Another arguing moan from the TARDIS made it clear exactly what the blue box thought of that request. When the Doctor tried to reach for another switch, a thin line of electricity arched from the console to her hand, and she quickly withdrew it in shock. Clearly, the TARDIS was not going to be overridden. Sighing, the Doctor leaned heavily on the console, letting her head fall forward as she slumped forward. She could feel it draining from her, the adrenaline from running away from the ruins of Gallifrey, the triumph of another near-death experience. All that she was left with was what she had learned and the way it lay heavy between her hearts, festering into a hatred that made her want to tear her own skin apart merely for being a part of it all. She couldn’t go back to her fam with that grief and she couldn’t be alone with it. “Please,” she whispered, not expecting a response this time. “Just once more.” She almost fell over her own feet, she was so surprised when the TARDIS began making the steady whirr that meant she was moving again. “That’s it!” The Doctor declared in triumph, giving the console an enthusiastic slap. “That’s my girl!”

When the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS it was onto a cobbled street. The dark of night lay around her, broken by streetlights every block or so. Across the street stretched a wall, made of worn concrete and scrawled across with graffiti. A few figures shuffled or stumbled along, but none seemed to pay her any mind. At the corner a neon sign proclaimed the existence of a pub inside. Loud music pounded from the entrance, drawing the Doctor closer. The TARDIS had dropped her here- she took a sniff of the air- in 1989 East Berlin, on purpose. Which meant he had to be somewhere. And she _needed_ to know where. After everything she had seen and learned she ached for this, ached and yearned in a way that kept her fingers skittering across her jacket, tugging on a sleeve, running through her hair, all in short, jerky movements that caused other pedestrians to cast her strange looks. Even though it was cold, well below freezing, she felt too hot, too constrained. Where was- She was jolted out of her thoughts by the impact of another body stumbling into hers. The man, still cursing the pub he’d just been tossed out of, turned to her. When their eyes met her breath caught.

Despite her eagerness to see him again, The Doctor was taken aback by the Master standing before her. The- she did some quick math- 47 years that he had spent waiting to get back to her had clearly taken their toll. His clothes were torn (though that just may be the style) and his leather jacket had clearly seen better days. His frame was leaner and more taught than she remembered, less softness about it. And his eyes. His bloodshot eyes were sunk into cavities. And when they fought through the haziness of alcohol to recognize her again, they lit up with a rage and pain that illustrated what four decades in an impoverished nation had done. She went to react, but she was still taking him in, and he was quicker.

“Doctor,” he growled, pushing her back, back across the street, across uneven ground and broken glass, until her back thudded against the wall. He held her there, one arm pinning her shoulders, the other hand planted against the wall, holding him over her. “What the hell are you doing here? I shouldn’t see you for another-“ this whole time the Doctor hadn’t spoken. Even here, under the shadow of a guard tower, night all around them, she could make out his face. It was one she’d never expected see again. And even though he had her pinned, she couldn’t help taking it all in, every inch of him. When she realized he was asking a question something in her expression must have changed, must have given her away, because he stopped. He started to laugh, a low, dark chuckle, that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned into her shoulder so she couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his smile through the fabric of her shirt. “You just came from Gallifrey, didn’t you? You finally learned everything.” She didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. Her silence, the way her muscles tensed, the fact that she was there at all, confirmed it. His low chuckle grew into peels of laughter, “You learned everything,” he repeated, mouth trailing from her shoulder to speak hot breath against her neck, until he was whispering directly into her ear. “And it broke you.” She didn’t like that. She didn’t like the way it resonated within her. She had told him- the future him- back on Gallifrey that he had only made her stronger. That had been a lie. The truth about the Timeless Child had left her with a gaping hole inside, one that swirled and tore at her with its _wrongness._ She didn’t know who she was, or who she had been. There had been times, sure, when she’d been less than Doctor-ly. When she’d hurt men and even killed them. She had brought her own people to extinction before. But every time she’d known that she’d done it. She’d sat penance and prayed for their souls and carried the grief with her. But now she couldn’t do that. Because she had no way of knowing what she had done and to whom. And the not knowing, the feeling that there were sins that she could never answer for, was ripping her to shreds in a way she could feel in her hearts. “I win.” That caused a flare of anger in her. He had broken her, sure, had ripped her whole identity from her hands. But he did not get to win. Not here, not again.

“You’re dead.” He seemed generally unperturbed by this news.

“Yeah, so?”

“For real this time, Koschei,” she elaborated. “No regenerations, no coming back.” She didn’t know that that last part was strictly speaking true. Though, considering the explosion that had rocked Gallifrey, she found it more likely than not.

He just shrugged.

“It’s got to happen to all of us, Doctor. Though, I suppose not you. Never you.” _Almost me_ , she corrected in her mind. _It should have been me, back on Gallifrey._ And that was part of it. She had been ready to die. But instead Ko Sharmus had come in to the rescue. Another human dead because of her. The pain ripped through her again and she _needed_ it to stop, needed to complete her mission here to make it stop. Or at least to feel physically the same agony she felt emotionally.

“Do you want to know why I’m here or not?”

“I assumed it was to kill me, again. Or does that make it prematurely? Or to imprison me somewhere. Or something else boring and predictable. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you just tell me, Doctor?”

“I want you to hurt me,” her voice was even when she said it, her gaze not wavering from his. “I want you to fuck me and I want you to do it in a way that hurts.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Now, that isn’t boring or predictable.” His arm that still pinned her across the shoulder pressed her harder against the wall and she gritted her teeth at the pressure.

“Yes. I need how I feel out here,” she gestured the length of her own body, “To match how I feel in here,” she thumped the hollow between her two hearts. “And only you can do that for me. Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want this, too, _Master_ , that you haven’t thought of this. Pulling at my hair, scratching red welts down my skin, having me on my knees like you did in that Gallery. Making me pay for leaving you in Par-” Before she could continue, she was cut off by a sharp slap across one cheek.

“You talk too much,” he growled, before sweeping down and catching her in a kiss. It wasn’t sweet, or patient. That wasn’t what she had asked for. It was hungry, demanding, as his lips pressed against hers almost to the point of bruising. _Can lips bruise?_ The thought was chased away by his tongue pressed against her lips, demanding that she deepen the kiss. She did and he pressed roughly into her mouth. His lips moved from hers to her cheekbone and then to her neck, biting and scratching, as much teeth as soft mouth. “Then again,” he murmured into the spot where her neck and shoulder met, “maybe that’s not such a bad thing.” He pulled away, just a few centimeters. But the October air was all the cooler in his absence. “Beg me.”

“What?” his thigh went up between her legs, pressing against her in a way that made her gasp.

“Beg me for this. For me to hurt you, to rip you apart and fuck you and make you feel like nothing.” The humiliation sent a flush to her cheeks. It burned her, set her gut churning. And it was just what she needed.

“Please,” she gasped out, he ground his thigh against her. He didn’t go to kiss her again, instead moving the arm that had been across her torso to her throat, encapsulating it in one large hand. He pressed her there, just enough to make it harder to speak, not enough that she couldn’t. “Please, hurt me. I, I need this from you. Please, tear me apart and break me down and fuck me and _please_ just hurt me.” His grin was pure wickedness.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He returned to kissing her, and she could feel her pulse jumping against the hand that still held her by the throat. It was making her lightheaded, making her float. She needed to ground herself, couldn’t leave this moment. She reached for something solid, and let her hands wrap around his shoulders to his back. She had barely touched him when he grabbed her arms roughly, pulling them from him to pin them to the wall above her head. “Stay like that,” he growled. She thought about protesting but was distracted by one of his hands sliding under the hem of her shirt. It slipped up the plane of her stomach, grabbing and pinching as he went. When he got to her chest he pulled one breast out of her bra, tugging roughly at it and squeezing. She was already suppressing a moan, feeling the heat growing between her legs where he still pressed. She arched up into his touch as he grabbed at her nipple, pinching and pulling it. “Aren’t you the little whore this time around?” he remarked. “Already falling apart at the seams.” Her responding groan was all the agreement he was getting. “It’s a good thing this is the 80s, my dear. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I came prepared.” He pulled back a bit, and she whined in protest, needing the heat of his body. What he retrieved from his back pocket, though, stopped the complaint in her throat. Hanging from his fingers was a silver chain, and dangling from each end was a small clamp. Just the sight of it made her chest ache, and she felt the heat between her legs grow.

“You just carry that around with you?” She managed to choke out. He shrugged.

“Got to keep myself entertained somehow.” When he fastened one of the clamps around the nipple he had just been toying with the pain shot through her instantly. Her lips parted in a gasp and she curled her hands, still above her head, into fists that dug little crescent moons into her own palms. He didn’t acknowledge this reaction, not giving her any time to adjust before yanking the other breast out of its cup and securing the other clamp to it. Now her eyes watered. The cotton of her shirt rubbed roughly against her skin as her breasts moved, jostled by the master pulling them first one way then the other. He gave the chain draped between them a sudden tug, and she threw her head back so suddenly it hit against the concrete of the wall. A loud groan slipped between her tightly clamped lips. “Shhhh…” He commanded. “Do you want the whole city to know what I’m doing to you?” He was right. They weren’t readily visible, hidden behind the stairs and shadows of the guard tower. But she should be quiet.

“Got a gag in one of those pockets?” His returning grin sent a thrill through her.

“I’ve got an even better idea.” Hands moving to her waist, he gave her trousers a fierce pull, and they were suddenly free from their suspenders and pooling around her ankles. He gave it just a second’s pause, as if expecting her to protest. She didn’t, instead meeting his gaze as if daring him to continue. She had, after all, come here for this. That was exactly what he needed to dip his hand into her panties, palm pressing up against her. She bit back another moan as his other hand dug fingernails into her hip, commanding her to be still. “Look how wet you are already,” He teased, one finger running the length of her. He withdrew suddenly and she thought she was going to scream with the need. Instead, he grabbed the panties, pulling them down the length of her legs. The cold night air hit her with a rush and suddenly she was shivering and aching, though she didn’t know how much of it was from the cold and how much was from the desire. When he knelt in front of her, she shook her head vigorously.

“No, no that’s not what I said. I want you to- “

“To hurt you, love. Yes, I know. However, I believe we also agreed that we need to find some way to keep you quiet.” He tugged at the panties around her ankles and she almost reddened as she caught his meaning. Unsure what to do but obey the silent command, she lifted her legs and let him slide the panties over her boots and trouser legs until they lay limp in his hands, light blue and silky. He smirked at her. “Open wide.” He grabbed her jaw rough enough to bruise, forcing it open, and shoved the panties inside.

She was immediately overwhelmed by the taste of herself, and the smell. If she had been a human she might have been concerned about how this limited her breathing. As it was she did her best to barely react to the impromptu gag, quirking an eyebrow as if to say _That the best you got?_ From his returning grin he understood the question perfectly and was ready to take up the challenge.

His mouth returned to her throat, biting and scratching even harder than before. His hands trailed over her, over the fabric of her shirt. He tugged one of the nipple clamps suddenly, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

“Hmmm…” He groaned. “I do love it when you make that sound.” He repeated the gesture with the other clamp, then let his finger trail lightly along the chain. She shivered at the sensations being sent though her body. “Look at you, writhing in pain, loving every minute of it. I must have done a number on you, huh?” For once she was thankful for the gag, thankful that she didn’t have to admit that, yes, he had. His hands trailed down to her stomach, and he dug his nails into the soft flesh there, dragging them across almost hard enough to break skin. “What I wouldn’t give to have a whip with me, to be able to bring it down against your stomach here, against your back and shoulders. Oh, the pretty little sounds you would make then.” She was breathing hard now, the cold winter long forgotten and replaced by the heat between her legs. His hands were moving downwards as he spoke. She willed him to move them faster, to get there already. As if he could sense her desire he stopped, fingers resting on her hips. His eyes searched hers, prodding her to react.

“Please,” She begged, though it hardly sounded like that through the gag. “Please do it already.”

“What?” He asked, feigning innocence, “Are you saying you want me to touch you?” She nodded desperately, tears springing to her eyes. She didn’t just want him, she _needed_ him to touch her there. Needed it like she needed the pain and she needed someone to unravel her. “Well alright then.” Without ceremony he plunged into her, two fingers right away. He went in without any resistance and he let out an impressed whistle at that. “Look at you, already so slick and ready. The idea of being hurt must have really turned you on. You realize how fucked up that is, right?” She nodded. Of course she knew. That was why she was here; because there was no one else to whom she could bring the fucked up, broken pieces of herself and lay them at their feet. He was the only one she could burden with this.

He began to move his fingers within her, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit as she did so. Her eyes began to flutter, and she knew she was already halfway to climax. She began to move against him, grinding for more friction, but he used his free hand to pin her back against the wall.

“No,” He growled deep into her ear. “I am fucking you. Not the other way around.” She felt another rush of wetness at those words, the rough command of it all. He rewarded her for that with a third finger inside. By now she was struggling to stand, her knees begging to buckle and her arms aching from where she still held them above her head. Oh, she was close. The Master knew it, too. “Do you want to come, Doctor?” _Yes, yes, Gods yes._ She nodded fervently, though he already knew the answer. His fingers kept a steady pace, consistent, but not fast enough, not hard. “What would you give me to let you come?” _Anything. The stars, the universe, every regeneration left in this body and every one in its past._ She couldn’t speak, so she just moaned heavily against the gag, begging him for more with her desperate eyes. “Would you give me every planet you’ve seen? What about the lives of all your little pets? What about your precious TARDIS?” He kept listing examples, but she was barely listening, because his fingers were finally picking up pace and _Oh, oh Gods._ She came with a shudder and a last muffled groan, tightening around his fingers, spilling out, and then slumping back against the Berlin Wall.

But he wasn’t done with her, not yet. Without a word, the Master flipped her over, shoving her cheek against the rough concrete. She wasn’t expecting this, but it was just as well. She wasn’t ready to be done with this yet, wasn’t ready to be left with the storm brewing inside her. Behind her she could hear the rustle of him undoing his own jeans and shoving them down his thighs. There was the sound of flesh stroking against itself for a few seconds, then he plunged into her. Without preamble or warning, and she was filled with him. Her mouth opened into a silent cry, as she stretched and gave to his bulk. Then he was pulling out, just to shove back in again with equal fervor. His fingers laced into hers, pinning her hands to the wall. A jolt of pain went through her every time her still clamped breasts were shoved against it. And he rammed her hips against the hard surface at a bruising pace. But _oh, oh how it felt good._ One of his hands moved hers down to her clit, thumb swiping over it quickly, fiercely. And before she could even catch her breath she was coming again, everything fire and spinning. She started to shake free, but he pinned her back down.

“Oh no,” He groaned between thrusts. “I’m not done with you yet.” He gave her sensitive, twitching clit another stroke, and then other. And then they were coming together, panting and rutting against the Berlin Wall, all but screaming into the night.

When they were done, he pulled out, brusquely pulling up his trousers and straightening his jacket. The Doctor was more languid, despite the chill and the fact that they were in public, bending slowly to put her own trousers back on, and tucking the panties into a pocket.

“Can I have my _item_ back?” he drawled, eyes going to her chest. She reached under her shirt, hissing in pain as she unclipped the clamps from sore nipples and tucked her breasts back into her bra. She held the chain out to him, and he shoved it into the back pocket he had retrieved it from. She vaguely wondered how many times he had done that before and with whom.

But now they were staring at each other, unsure how to proceed. It seemed wrong, to just walk away from each other after all this time. But they couldn’t continue together, either. They weren’t even supposed to see each other for another thirty years. _Speaking of which…_ The Doctor shook her head. No, she’d give them a minute to adjust. Then she’d think about that. She leaned back against the Wall, letting the back of one hand scrape over the rough concrete.

“You know, they’re taking this down in a month,” She remarked, almost conversationally. “Mr. Gorbochev, tear down this wall.”

“Well, you did always know more about Earth history than I did,” He replied with a shrug. “Actually, could have helped if I did know more, these last few decades.” When he glanced at her there was something darker there, and for the first time she felt a pang of guilt. She’d done what she’d had to in order to get back to her own time and save the world, but left at the mercy of Nazis? No one deserved that. She shook the pity from her mind, reminding herself of what she had just come from, the carnage he had wrought and the further death he had been planning to cause with his hybrid cybermen. She would not feel sorry for him. He must have already known she wouldn’t be apologizing, though, because when he spoke again it was like the time in Paris had been forgotten.

“How do I die, Doctor? Do you kill me?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.” He scoffed.

“Come on, we both know you’re going to erase my memory before you leave, make me forget we ever did this. That’s the only way that you don’t completely fuck up the time streams.” She glanced at her feet guiltily. “If it makes you feel any better, which I almost hope it doesn’t, I knew that the moment you bumped into me on the street. I knew what I was getting into.” _I didn’t,_ she thought bitterly. _I thought that seeing you again would help._ Instead she just felt sore, and empty, and just as alone as before. “Well, no use putting it off.” He stepped towards her and she flinched. That almost made her laugh. She had shown up, had begged him for pain, and now she was afraid he might _hurt her?_ But he just took her hand in his, neither gentle nor rough, and put it to his temple. She gulped. It was time. But he still had a question, and whether she owed him an answer or not she couldn’t deny the hunger in his eyes.

“You die on Gallifrey,” She spoke, barely louder than a whisper. “Surrounded by soldiers you created. And no, I don’t kill you. I run. Like a coward.”

“Like always,” He agreed, his grin somewhere between peaceful and manic and he closes his eyes, ready. She gave a mental command and felt the power rushing from her fingertips into his mind, taking the memories, rending them away from him. And then it was done. He collapsed in her arms and she laid him, almost gently, against the wall. Anyone passing by would assume he was drunk, or homeless. Giving him one a final glance, the last one she would ever have of her childhood friend and worst enemy, she turned back and made her way to the TARDIS.

Inside she leaned heavily against the console. She expected tears, could feel the lump in her throat, but they wouldn’t come. Instead, she was only surrounded by the warm light and steady hum of her TARDIS.

“You were right,” she agreed. “Didn’t know what I was thinking.” She gave a heavy sigh and swiped at her eyes. Dry as the desert. _Just as well,_ she thought as she meticulously took all the emotions, all the pain and betrayal, and locked them away. _Don’t need blotchy skin._ And then she did what she always did, sprung up, forced down the grief, and began preparing the TARDIS to take off again. “Let’s go see what the fam is up to. Never did take them to Cerulean. Do you remember that? Beautiful planet, everything’s bright blue. You’ll blend right in. Oh, this is going to be fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> There you go, hope you liked that. And my research basically consisted of that one time I watched Atomic Blonde, so if there was anything off, well, none of us really came here for a historically accurate picture of 1989 Berlin.


End file.
